


Absent, Only Not

by afrocurl



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-29
Updated: 2009-12-29
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2149818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/pseuds/afrocurl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim processes what's become of Street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absent, Only Not

**Author's Note:**

  * For [just_chiara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_chiara/gifts).



> Betaed by the lovely [](http://starxd-sparrow.livejournal.com/profile)[**starxd_sparrow**](http://starxd-sparrow.livejournal.com/), and written for [](http://just-chiara.livejournal.com/profile)[**just_chiara**](http://just-chiara.livejournal.com/) for [](http://fnl-santa.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://fnl-santa.livejournal.com/)**fnl_santa** 2009\. Any and all mistakes at this point are mine. I hope this fits enough of your prompt and I hope you had a wonderful series of events!

The feeling that rumbles deep in his stomach is foreign; it’s not like the feeling he has after a long night drinking with Six, but more like the sinking feeling he had the day he finally realized his parents weren’t coming back. It settles there, never leaving him as he tries to go through the motions of being a Panther.

It’s school, practice, grub, but it’s all… without. Six is missing, never to return to the field in pads for a game ever again.

_Because I fucked up._

That’s his only thought before he pulls another long swig from the bottle and wills away his misgivings, choosing to ignore all of those niggling little voices with the help of another five longnecks.

-

_Never apart, Jason and Tim ruled the field since they both started playing Pop Warner. Back then, Six was just finding the strength in his arm, and Riggs was learning how to push past Billy at home on a daily basis (to Billy’s utter dismay). The game was simple for each of them—score a touchdown, make your family smile, get pizza afterward for the hard work—but the fact that they got to play together made it somehow important._

_“You and me, Street, we’re gonna be like this forever,” Tim told him after a particularly good game. He washed down the proclamation with a bottle of Gatorade and a competition-worthy belch that made his friend laugh._

_“Sure, Tim, sure we are.” He clapped Tim on the back, shaking his head._

_Street had ideas about college and the NFL – all Tim saw was two guys, throwing a ball well into their nineties. He beamed at the thought as the two walked back to Jason’s parents and the car._

-

Searching for any escape, Tim ditches class for a day, going on a long drive to numb the thoughts that still bounce around.

The radio is cutting in and out, and he hears the faint riff of “My Friends.” It makes him slam on the brakes and downshift into park. He threw open the door and heaved the door shut so hard, it bounced back open. The loud echo across the grass does little to calm his nerves, and he stalked away from the truck, leaving it open and running.

No one’s on the road, and for the first time in three days, Tim yells.

He yells at no one in particular, roars of pain at the loss of his friend rushing out of his lungs. It’s lonely and senseless, but he gets out the sentiment without causing a different sort of scene in town. Still, he’s left unsatisfied by his outburst, so he gets back into the truck and peels back onto the road.

_Maybe Tyra will be home._

The drive back to town passes quickly and quietly, to Tim’s reluctant satisfaction.

-

_“Freshmen suck!” Tim cried as he and Six walked towards Varsity practice._  
“Not too loud, Riggs. Coach’ll hear you and you won’t get to play on his team for another two years.”  
“Whatever, Six. I don’t care that much.” 

_“Bull. I know ya do. Why else would you want to pound the whole D-line to make sure there’s a pocket for the receiver?”_

_“So you’ll do good, Street. That’s all.”_

_“Whatever,” Jason said dismissively, before hopping into his mom’s car. “Get in,” he added after a beat, still watching Tim outside the car, “before Mom leaves ya and there isn’t any pizza left.”_

-

Coach’s idea of tough love plays out as a slow trek back into town. The labor of raising his legs redistributes his abundance energy away from those final words.

_It is my fault, no matter what anyone says._

The simple thought overtakes any that Coach would rather have there, just as the rising pain in his calves takes over everything else he has managed to string together after the suicides.

Approaching Front Street, Tim lifts his eyes to watch life pass him by: cars speeding towards the highway, lights flickering off for the night as the restaurants shut down, a newspaper tumbling along the shoulder. It’s almost peaceful, he thinks, before slowly moving towards the school and his car.

-

 _Six and Thrirty-three, lives of any Panther party, strutted into the house, ready for another night of celebrating, just as they always do. Rally Girls – actually_ all _the girls - eye each of them as the pair find the cooler of beer._

_Tim grabbed first, offering his friend one before spinning around the patio in search of Tyra._

_Moving through the party, Riggins had to stop as half the Dillon High School population told him how amazing his tackles had been or praising his few rushing accomplishments. And when the hard-won accolades started to grate, Tim went in search of Street. He needed to shoot the shit with QB1 about the game and their plans for the bye-week ahead._

_“Six!” he yelled over everyone still at the party._

_“What, Riggs? You had your fill of this party?”_

_“Hell no!” he continued to yell over the din, before walking to meet Street._

_“Then what?” Jason asked when Tim arrived._

_“I can’t talk with my QB1?”_

_“We talk all the time, Tim.”_

_“Not that talk, Streeter. I’m talkin’ big talk—the stuff we’ll do when we’re done bein’ Panthers.”_

_“You’re drunk, Riggs. I’m not gonna talk about that with ya now.”_

_“Not that drunk, Six. Watch me walk a straight line.”_

_Tim started to push everyone standing near them out of the way for the trick._

_“Just stop, Tim. I believe ya. No need to do something stupid.”_

-

The day Tyra walks back into his house, Tim expects her to say she wants him back before a roll in the sheets. Instead, she’s out of her truck and yelling at him soon as she crosses the threshold.  
“You haven’t seen your best friend at all, Tim? What sort of man are you? I’ve damn well been to see him, and I don’t care about him.”

Tim mumbles, unsure of how to tell his ex about the nagging pain still settled in his stomach.

“You can’t even speak can you? How pathetic are you?

“This is the guy you’ve known since you were six and who you’ve probably jerked off more times than I should want to know about!” she rails, an obvious attempt to rattle him.

“Just get out, will ya?” he asks once she’s done with her tirade. He stands to relocate from the couch to the fringe for another beer.

“No, Tim, I won’t. You need to suck up whatever shit you’ve got goin’ on up there and see him.”

“Shut up, Tyra!” he calls back, while his voice rises with each word she speaks. “I’ll do what I gotta do when I’m good and ready. Not because I’ve been guilted into going.”

“Whatever Tim, ignore your best friend. Just don’t expect him to be there when you’re ready.”

The door slams, the sound ricocheting off the thin walls.

-

_”Here’s to livin’ large, great friends, and Texas,” Tim proclaimed after the party had officially ended, but before he and Street left the house._

_“Enough big talk, Tim.”_

_“Why, Streeter? You’re gonna do great things after you graduate. I know I’ll be lucky if I make it out with a diploma.”_

_“If you keep selling yourself short like that, than yeah, Riggs. Apply yourself to something other than the pursuit of sex, will ya?”_

_“It’s what I’m good at,” Tim drawled, smirking easily._

-

Dragging his feet, Tim slowly walks down the hall towards Jason’s room. He’s guilty, if he can admit that, for waiting so long, but that feeling still wrestles in his stomach, making him want to forget that the game ever happened. For five minutes, he pushes the feeling away, trailing the rest of the team to see Street.

The moment is over before Tim even realizes it, and the whole team is back in the bus before heading to the game against Arnett Meade.

-

_Tim tried not to get upset that the Pop Warner folks planned the Father-Son game for the same day Billy had a recruitment visit with some school Tim doesn’t remember and his dad was off at some golf tournament—still trying to chase a dream long since gone._

_The Streets picked him up and drove him to the game, because Jason was determined to have his friend there._

_Everyone else on the field asked where Billy or Mr. Riggins was, but Jason would answer for Tim, saying that Billy was off on a big trip and Mr. Riggins had a qualifying tournament for the Tour._

_After the game, Tim mumbled his thanks Jason for the day, happy to have shared one more game with his friend._

-

As soon as Tim hangs up the phone, he gets nervous about why. It wasn’t just that Tim never visits, but the pit in his stomach threatens to swallow him whole as he tries to process what’s about to happen when he walks into the space.

Excuses flow out of his mouth as soon as he walks into the room, counterpoint to Jason’s angry voice about not showing up. Bile rises while Jason talks about how much being in the center sucks.

“Is that what’s important, Timmy?” Jason finally asks.

There’s nothing Riggins can say in response, because it’s all a load of crap about why he’s never showed up.

“No, Six, it’s not important anymore.”

\--

_fin_


End file.
